


Nothing But the...

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Weiss Kreuz - Fandom
Genre: Confessions, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Rescue, Truth Serum, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: It's not a truth serum. Not really. But it makes Mamoru talk anyway.





	Nothing But the...

Mamoru pressed his head back against the wall. He could wait this out. He'd waited out worse. There wasn't really any such thing as truth serum. There are things that make you drunk, make you talk. That was different.

He was just drunk. He could wait it out. He’d done it before. _Don't give them anything._ The drug felt hot and strange in his veins.

Something in the next room went _boom._

Good.

By the time Nagi crashed into the room, Mamoru's head was swimming. "Not telling you anything," he said. "Can't make me."

"Of course not," Nagi said. The manacles shattered.

Nagi was...not loyal. Not kind. What was it? Something. Something precious. Nagi threw Mamoru over his shoulder, like a firefighter. Professional.

Warm.

More words he couldn't, shouldn't say. He should say something, though. _Thank you,_ probably.

"Feels good," Mamoru said. "Your hands."

"I know," Nagi said. "Tell me later."

It was important, though. "But you touch me," Mamoru said. "You don't have to, but you still touch me. People don't do that any more."

"It would be a really good time for you to stop talking," Nagi said. "Anyway. You're supposed to be drunk, not more perceptive."

"Not drunk," Mamoru said. "This is...thicker. Besides. Didn't just figure it out."

"No?"

"I think about it," Mamoru said. "That you touch me. All the time."

"Think about me touching you, or think that I touch you all the time?"

"Yeah," Mamoru said. "You're not afraid of me. Never."

Nagi threw the door open. No guards, no shouting.

"Did you kill them?" Mamoru asked.

"All the ones I could find." Nagi's hand felt cool on the back of his neck as he shifted Mamoru's position.

"I can walk--"

"This is faster," Nagi said, and slammed another door open. Stairs.

Mamoru wasn't sure he could do stairs yet. Nagi had probably been right.

"You're not afraid of me," Nagi said.

Mamoru shrugged. "You don't--you don't." He struggled with the words. "You don't need anything. From me. Nothing to steal or--or take. Anything--you could. You could take what you wanted. And you don't."

"And that's why you're not afraid of me?" Nagi said. "Because I could murder you, and I don't."

"...sort of? It's more--" Mamoru waved his hand vaguely behind Nagi's back. "It's more than that. That you have power. And you don't take it. I think." He sighed. "I wasn't supposed to talk. This stuff--made me--makes me fuzzy."

"I know," Nagi said. "We're almost out. I won't let you talk to anyone else."

"See," Mamoru said. "That's why. That's why."

They emerged from the stairwell into the sunlight. It hurt Mamoru's eyes; too bright, too sudden. "It's okay," Nagi said. "Just hold on."

 

What kind of assholes kept _underground lairs_ where they drugged their enemies? Nagi felt like he was living in a bad movie half the time. At any rate, Mamoru managed to stay quiet as he got him into the waiting sedan, and then dozed on Nagi's shoulder as the driver guided them home.

Nagi scowled his way through the castle gates and intimidated Rex into letting him go straight to Mamoru's quarters. "He's been drugged," he said. "He’s been talking, off and on. Nonsense, mostly. If I even _suspect_ anyone's turned on the mics--"

"No," she said. "They'll be off. I’ll see to it myself. Let me know if you need relief."

"I will," he said.

Mamoru woke up a little as they went to his room, and was still sober enough to know the door had closed. Nagi forced two glasses of water down Mamoru's throat, trying to tune out the steady babble of conversation that followed. Most of it was bullshit, anyway; Mamoru was hot, he was uncomfortable, the room was swaying.

"Let's get you to bed," he said. "You'll feel better if you can sleep this off."

Mamoru nodded. "I didn't say anything to them," he said. "I talked to you but--"

"That's different," Nagi said. He turned down the covers on Mamoru's bed, ignoring how soft the sheets were. Ignoring the way Mamoru's fingers found his arm and stayed there.

"I do, though," Mamoru said. "Like it. When you touch me."

"I know," Nagi said, wretchedly. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"Don't leave?"

"I won't." He should have pushed Mamoru's arm away; he didn't. "I'll be right here."

"Thank you," Mamoru said, and his face disappeared into the pillow, to Nagi's tremendous relief. His breathing slowed, and Nagi let himself relax. He'd sleep it off. He'd be fine.

It was fucking _pathetic,_ the whole thing. It wasn't Mamoru's fault that his fucking useless bodyguards had failed; wasn't his fault he'd been compromised and drugged. Wasn't his fault that his fucking mouth had kept fucking talking when sober Mamoru would have said nothing at all.

But it was Nagi's fault that he'd promised to stay with Mamoru, to keep his secrets. His fucking fault that he hadn't moved Mamoru's fingers off his arm. His fault that he was still on the mattress, on sheets that might have paid for a week of food at the orphanage.

"I won't remember this, will I?" came a dazed, soft voice from the pillow.

"Probably not."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like what?"

Mamoru rolled back over, lurched really. His fingers tightened on Nagi's arm. "This."

Nagi smirked. "Babysitting you?"

"No," Mamoru said, and he was fuzzy and dazed from the drugs but he knew exactly what he was asking, and knew that Nagi knew, too.

"Just get to sleep."

"You could," Mamoru said, and _that_ hung in the air for a while, as everything caught somewhere in Nagi's throat. "No one would know. I wouldn't even. If you were careful." His head lolled toward the ceiling. "I don't think I can even get it up right now. You'd have to use me."

Something liquid and strange sunk into Nagi's veins, made his skin prickle. "You need to stop talking," he said, knowing it wouldn't make any difference.

"I know," Mamoru said, and his voice was sad. "I like pretending."

"Pretending?"

"That you like it," Mamoru said. "That you would. Maybe that you did, once, when I was like this. Couldn't help yourself."

Something in the room shattered, and Nagi caught himself.

Mamoru's voice was dreamy. "I won't remember that. You can pretend it got knocked off the shelf." He laughed.

Nagi closed his eyes. "Fine," he said. "You win. Pretend I like it, all right? Pretend--" He pushed Mamoru over onto his side, got onto the bed next to him, Mamoru's body against his. He was warm, too warm. Too drunk. Too pliant. "There. Pretend I like it. Pretend the only reason I won't is because you're drunk on whatever this is."

"But that's why I won't know," Mamoru said.

"That's why I won't." He swallowed. "I'd want you to know. If I touched you. If I--" Mamoru was the drunk one. That was what was important to remember. "I'd want you to remember."

"I think about that too," Mamoru said, very, very softly.

He wanted to drag Mamoru into the shower, scrub off the smell of where he'd been. Cold water to sober him up, to stop this--

Or warm, with Mamoru _liking it--_

Nagi clenched his right hand into a fist and let his nails dig into the flesh. "Just sleep, all right?"

"I'll try," he said. "It's hard to focus. Everything's swimming. You'll be gone, if I go to sleep."

"I'll stay here," he said.

"But you won't be like this," he said. "You'll pretend it never happened. If I remember...I'll pretend to. We have before, when I was drunk."

Nagi's brain all but tripped over that. "You weren't supposed to remember.”

"I won't tomorrow," Mamoru said. "I promise." He fell quiet after that. After a while, Nagi took his hand, mostly to see if he was really asleep.

When he was sure Mamoru had passed out, he got up to see what he'd broken. The picture of Weiss Mamoru kept in his room had fallen over, the glass shattered. Nagi rolled his eyes; as if he hadn't already felt like a walking cliche. He cleaned up.

Mamoru's breathing was too even and slow. Even if he hadn't promised to stay, he wouldn't have left him alone. Whatever the shit was they'd given him was, it was brutal.

There wasn't much else in Mamoru's room. They'd taken his phone away; Nagi had already trashed it; it was easier to replace it than to hope to clear off any tracking software or tech.

He still had his own phone, at half battery, and he flipped through his messages. Nothing important. A sale at Shinjuku Isetan. Tomorrow's rotation of bodyguards, hastily adjusted in light of recent events.

Rex: _How is he?_

_Sleeping. I'll keep track of him._

_Do you want me to send up food?_

After what he'd done, he should eat. And Mamoru might be hungry if he woke up again.  
_Leave it at the door. Thank you._

He ate when it came, not really tasting the rice or the chicken, keeping half an eye on Mamoru. He played a few games on his phone.

Mamoru had gotten drunk before; a hazard of the profession, of doing business. He'd said things. But nothing--

_Maybe that you did, once, when I was like this. Couldn't help yourself._

He hadn't undressed Mamoru; he was in his shirtsleeves from earlier. There was still some redness around his wrists.

He could--

How much further down could he fall?

Mamoru's room had its own master bath. Nagi stripped down, got in the shower, jerked off and pretended it helped.

Mamoru was still sleeping when he came back in, his breathing a little more normal. Nagi sat in the chair next to the bed and closed his eyes. Just for a second.

 

Mamoru woke slowly, at first, his brain refusing to cooperate with the early morning glow seeping in through the windows. _The drug._ He rubbed his forehead and tried to think back. His wrists hurt. His head still felt foggy. And there was--

Next to him.

_Nagi._

It looked like he'd started sleeping on the chair and had gravitated into the bed, but not comfortably. He was so close to the edge Mamoru wondered if his power was the only thing keeping him in place. He'd taken his jacket off, but he hadn't loosened his tie or shirt collar. His suit would need pressing.

It was so rare to see him sleeping.

Mamoru wanted to stroke his hair.

Shit. He'd said--

He'd said more than usual. He'd let slip that he _remembered,_ sometimes.

And Nagi had--

He'd woken up half-hard, but that--

They'd both crossed the line. Done their best to obliterate it. Could they pretend that--

All they'd done was pretend, for so long.

Maybe he could pretend something different this morning. That Nagi had meant to stay, meant to fall asleep in the bed. That they'd have breakfast together, that after his shower Nagi would push him down against the mattress, laughing, kiss his neck--

He wondered if Nagi's power would attack him if he reached out. Just...just put a hand on his hip. Feel his skin, always so warm, under the fabric of his--

"Mamoru," the voice came. "What are you--what the _fuck."_

"I--what?"

Nagi turned over, rolling fully onto the bed, and squinted into Mamoru's face. "You're--" He blinked, and Mamoru could almost hear the wheels turning. "You're awake," he said. "Are you--"

"I don't want to pretend any more," Mamoru said.

Nagi frowned.

"I remember it," he said. "You remember. Is the surveillance on?"

"No. But Mamoru--"

He swallowed past the tension in his throat. "I like it," he said. "I like it when you touch me. When you carry me back here. When you put me to bed. And you said--you said if you...you'd want me to know."

"If," Nagi said, and his voice had a crack in it. _"If_ I wanted--"

"No," Mamoru said. "No more. No more pretending. Nagi-kun, I can't--"

"We can't," Nagi said. "You know that. If--"

"They all talk about us anyway," Mamoru said. "Why can't we? What are they going to do that they haven't already?"

"I'm--who cares about Kritiker? That’s never been--" Nagi said, and then caught himself.

"I thought you said they were gone," Mamoru said, after a moment. "That the snake was finally dead."

"The snake's dead," Nagi said. "But--we made enemies, Mamoru. Not just in Rosenkreuz or Eszett. Too many of them. Too many people who could take whatever they wanted out of your head. If they thought that you wanted me? That you had a crush, that’d be--why would they care about a crush? But if they thought I actually _cared_ about you--"

"Maybe I don't want to be protected."

"Mamoru, I just saved you from someone drugging you _yesterday."_

Mamoru smiled, in spite of himself. In spite of Nagi's curled fists. "You saved me," he said. "You always have."

“I’m not a god.”

“Then stop trying to control the world,” he said.

"You don't--" Nagi hesitated, swallowed. Started again. "You never saw what they could do. What they _did_ do."

"I know what happened to my father," he said. "I know what happened to Manx and Birman. I know what happened to Ken-kun."

Nagi's face was frozen.

"Maybe I didn't see what they did," Mamoru continued. "But--I'm not naive, Nagi-kun. And I'm not...I'm not going to forget any more." Maybe he was still high. He hadn't thought he was, when he woke up; he had been much more focused. But something had loosened his tongue. Something was pushing him forward. To hell with it. It was too late. He'd spent enough years hesitating.

"Why are you always such a pain in the ass?" Nagi said. "Why can't you--"

"Because they could have killed me. Because they could kill us both tomorrow. Because...because I've known. And that means they'll know it too." He swallowed. "It's too late," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"I am," he said. "It would be safer. I know that. But I don't think we've been safe for a long time. We've just been cowards."

"I carried you out of a basement yesterday!"

"And then you came here. And then you told me--"

Nagi rubbed his hands over his face. "I like you better when you're sober."

"Too late," Mamoru said, softly. "I'm not going back."

"I could leave," he said. "I could go somewhere. Tunisia. New Zealand. Brazil."

"Not Argentina," Mamoru said. "If Eszett's still around, they're probably there."

Nagi laughed, and there was a rough edge to it. "I don't know why I'm here. I should have left years ago."

"Because you liked it," he said.

"...because I liked it," he said, through his hands, his voice angry and raw. "Fuck you, Mamoru, is that what you wanted? I liked it. I broke your fucking picture frame last night because I wanted you and you kept _talking."_

"I can talk now, if you want me to," Mamoru said, low.

 _"Fuck,"_ Nagi said.

Mamoru took Nagi's hands, one by one, pulled them away from his face.

He couldn't remember ever seeing Nagi look so vulnerable.

He stayed still, as Mamoru pulled his hands down by his sides, as he leaned in closer.

"Tell me what you want me to remember," Mamoru said.

"Mamoru," he said. "I--"

"Let me," he said. "Let me."

Nagi's hands curled into Mamoru's. "Don't," he said. "I-- _Mamoru."_

"When's the last time you did something you actually wanted?"

"Last night," he said, and his voice was so, so quiet. "When I stayed."

Mamoru leaned closer still, until their foreheads almost touched. “Then do something else.”

“I could hurt you,” Nagi said. “It’s not just--them. It’s the power, it’s--”

“You won’t,” Mamoru said. “I trust you.” He just stopped himself from saying _I don't care any more._ He let go of Nagi's hands. "Please," he said. "I'm so tired of this."

"I hate you," Nagi said. Something broke. Maybe the picture frame again. "You're going to get us both killed."

"What else do you like?" Mamoru asked. "Do you like it when we're at the bars too late and the trains have shut down, and you get to push back anyone who gets too close to us?"

"I should have killed you before now," Nagi said, his eyes downcast, his voice bleeding tension. "Pulled this place down. Gone somewhere else. Anywhere. Before I'd been trapped here--"

"The time that meeting in Kyoto was cancelled and we decided to do 'cultural tourism?' Remember the gardens? I wanted to then. Tell me. Tell me what you--"

"Just _stop,"_ Nagi said, anguished. "Didn't you do enough of this to me last night?"

"You haven't _touched_ me," Mamoru said. "No. No, I didn't. Not yet."

"If I hurt you--"

"I don't care. If you kill me, I won't care," Mamoru said. _"Nagi-kun."_

"I care," he said. "You haven't even asked me."

"I don't want to do this any more. Why do you?"

"Because this was enough," he said. "Tot _died._ I can't--"

"Do you think this doesn't hurt now? Is this really what you want?"

"I want you alive," he said. "Do you think I care about anything but that?"

"You really think we're going to live that long?"

"I want--" He closed his eyes. "Fuck."

"Let's take what we want," Mamoru said. "For once."

"You don't--" Nagi's eyes flew open, met his, dark and pretty and _fuck,_ Mamoru wanted him, had wanted him for so long.

 

Mamoru darted forward; Nagi caught him by the shoulders before their lips could meet. _You promised,_ Nagi wanted to say. _You promised you wouldn't remember._ It would make him sound like a child. He felt--

He felt stupid. He felt lost.

They stared at each other, frozen, Mamoru's mouth half-open.

"Don't fucking talk," Nagi said. "Not another word." He reached out and cupped Mamoru's chin. "I swear, if you--"

Mamoru shook his head, and Nagi let himself fall.


End file.
